Tyrant
by Folle
Summary: A study of Ozai in the context of Confucius' Five Relationships.
1. Ruler to Subject

Tyrant

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5. Ruler to subject. There should be benevolence among the rulers and loyalty among the subjects.

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Ozai had known Iroh was not worthy of the title of Fire Lord from the time he was very young. It was in the way Iroh was passionate about tea instead of training, women instead of war, pai sho instead of pain.

The conference with his father had not gone well, Ozai thought. Azulon could not see that his son was soft and broken in Ba Sing Se without _his_ son.

Ozai supposed he should not have belittled the loss of Lu Ten. After all, Lu Ten was a more worthy son than Ozai's own. Zuko's poor showing in front of Fire Lord Azulon was proof enough of that, and the irony of it was not lost on Ozai that both he and his father were cursed with weak sons.

However, if Azulon would not do his duty as the leader of his country and pick the best successor, Ozai would do it for him. He would find a way to gain his father's throne, for he knew it belonged to him. Never Iroh. It had never been meant for Iroh.

For weak sons were useless and would be weak Lords, something he seemed to know instinctively that Azulon did not.

Ozai remembered the angry words of his Fire Lord and took hold of an idea.

Perhaps there would be a use for his son after all.

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Relationship definitions come from Lewis M. Hopfe's _Religions of the World_.

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	2. Elder to Junior

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4. Elder to junior. There should be consideration among the elders and deference among the juniors.

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Ozai was not a fool. When he stole the throne from his father and his brother, he made sure that he knew his enemies. Of course, the only enemy he felt any apprehension about was the Avatar.

So he read all the old, musty scrolls hidden in the depths of the Fire Palace that contained any information about Roku. Ozai didn't believe Roku was still living; he even doubted that the new Avatar had made it out alive from the massacres of the Airbenders. But Ozai was not a fool, and so he read.

The scrolls were incomplete, damaged by time and neglect. But from them, Ozai formed a picture of Roku as a quiet, pacifist man who wielded the power of the gods. Fight Roku must not have liked to do, but fight he could.

When he was done with them, Ozai replaced the scrolls carefully. Then he had access to the libraries restricted. He had the information he needed, and there would be no need for it again. No one else would need it either.

Ozai did not restrict his training practices. It was possible—if doubtful—that someday the Avatar would come to fight him, and Ozai, who was not a fool, would be ready. Even if he believed the only Avatar he would meet would be an old man too weak and too tired and too cowardly to defeat the Fire Lord.

So when the news reached him that the Avatar was a child whose voice had not yet changed, Ozai laughed and ordered the libraries to be sealed. The information in them, it seemed, was outdated and useless.


	3. Husband to Wife

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3. Husband to wife. There should be righteous behavior in the husband and obedience in the wife.

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Ozai was displeased. Yes, Ursa had given birth to a son. Yes, Ozai was sure the son was his. But the infant was barely alive. How could a child who had almost died from the trauma of birth be worthy to be a prince in the most powerful country in the world?

Ozai had ignored the court physicians who had advised that Ursa was perhaps too young to bear children. Ozai had plans the physicians were not privy to, and those plans required a son—an heir. That was Ursa's purpose. She was to give Ozai the heir he needed, and then to raise him to be a proper Fire Nation citizen. It didn't matter if she began sooner or later; her duties and destiny weren't going to change.

Ozai knew Ursa hadn't left her son's side since he'd been born. But she would, because Ozai needed another child in case the first one died. So he would take her back to his bed, and she would give him a second child. And if the second child was as weak as the first, Ozai would find a second wife who would be stronger than the first.

Weakness, Ozai knew, must be shunned in favor of strength, but he would give Ursa one more chance to prove herself.

So he entered the nursery and led his wife away. She followed him, but her eyes stayed on the child she was leaving behind.

It was something Ozai didn't forget.


	4. Elder Brother to Younger Brother

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2. Elder brother to younger brother. There should be gentility in the elder brother and humility in the younger.

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When Ozai was born, Iroh was already fifteen, with a life full of complications and obligations, so Ozai does not have many early members of his brother. And by the time Ozai was five, Iroh had married. Still, Ozai does remember some things, though he does not remember them often. He remembers that Iroh liked to pick him up and swing him around, that Iroh smiled often, that Iroh taught him his first firebending stance.

He also remembers that Iroh did not have much free time—he was always with tutors, trainers, and court officials. Iroh had even less free time after he married.

Ozai does not remember the wedding.

Ozai does not remember a time when he did not know that Iroh would become Fire Lord after their father, nor does he remember a time when Fire Lord Azulon's eyes did not sparkle with pride when he looked upon his eldest, and eventually, the eldest of his eldest: Lu Ten. Iroh inherits the same pride, and he looks upon Lu Ten in the same way.

It seems shameful to Ozai because this pride is folly. It continually clouds Azulon's judgment and Iroh's as well. Should not a father who expects his son to be a ruler show less favor, less mercy? Azulon's fondness for Iroh has made him soft, as Iroh's will do for Lu Ten. This baseless pride that stems from nothing but paternity is unseemly to the grandeur Ozai feels the Fire Lord should possess.

It is this pride that Ozai will learn to exploit, this love of sons, this weakness. It is a weakness Ozai will use against his father, his brother, but not himself: this love of sons that Ozai vows to never have.


	5. Father to Son

_Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! Please enjoy the final installment._

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1. Father to son. There should be kindness in the father and filial piety in the son.

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Ozai sits in his cell and seethes. Seethes something terrible because his whole life has been ruined by a rag-tag jumble of insufferable children. When he thinks of how his power—his essence—was stolen by the skinniest, most cowardly one of all of them…

He does not think about it as often as he can distract himself. Unfortunately, his others thoughts are almost as painful as his memories of that final fight.

He would hope for some escape, some reprieve, but deep down he knows there will be no such thing. He has left ties with no one; Azula was the closest anyone had gotten, but even she wasn't good enough. She professed to be just like him, to want exactly what he wanted, but in the end she was as weak as her brother in her need for their mother.

Ozai curses most fervently the day he married Ursa. For it must be from her that their children have inherited desires for love, companionship, and mercy. (Ozai has never wanted those things, and he never will.)

However, there are some days that he does not curse Ursa and her soft heart; these are the days the Fire Lord comes to visit him, the days when Ozai holds that deliciously raw feeling of power over Zuko's head.

Today is such a day. Ozai listens to the drag of royal robes on the stone floor, the swish of Zuko's footsteps coming closer. With each step, a spark of perverted joy stimulates Ozai's spine; he tingles with anticipation.

Zuko stops in front of his cell, hands tucked into his sleeves. He is a picture of calm, of balance, of peace, but Ozai knows it is a lie. He knows Zuko's hands are hidden in his sleeves not because he is relaxed, but because Zuko thinks hiding all his tension in his hands behind his sleeves will fool his father.

Ozai smiles predatorily in the darkness of the corner in which he sits.

"Tell me where she is," Zuko commands, as he does with each visit. If Ozai were impartial enough to judge, he might say that Zuko sounded regal, authoritative even.

He is far from impartial.

Ozai does not respond to this command; he never does. Instead he taunts: "You will never find her." Then he laughs lowly.

He sees the slight fluttering of Zuko's sleeves and knows that Zuko is digging his fingernails into his forearms in frustration.

"And if you do," Ozai continues, "what will she say when she sees what you have done to your face, when she sees the shame you have brought upon yourself?"

Ozai hasn't used that line before, but he's been planning it. He suspects that one day Zuko will acquire a wife who will tell him to cease his prison visits, so Ozai plans to wound Zuko as much as he can while he still has the opportunity.

Zuko's eyes widen until they are mostly white in the darkness of the hall. Then he throws himself against the cell's bars, shouting with what Ozai considers to be less than dignity.

"Tell me where she is!"

"If you want to know so badly, torture it out of me."

Zuko recoils from the iron bars as though Ozai has burned him again, sprawled in a most childish manner on the prison floor. He turns his head and closes his eyes, to Ozai's eternal disgust.

"No. I am not like you."

Ozai can't help the curling of his lip, the sneer that so easily fits on his face.

"No, you are weak. You have always been weak. A stronger Lord would not wait for information as you do; he would take it. But you will not, unworthy pretender that you are."

Zuko's eyes open slowly as he turns to face Ozai. Zuko looks at him with such pain that Ozai is horrified to discover something stir within him.

"You are my father," Zuko pleads.

Zuko's tone snaps Ozai's control, and he is filled with hatred and loathing for the weakling before him that claims his paternity.

"Get out of my sight!" he snarls. He can look at Zuko no longer, so he turns his head to the wall.

He feels Zuko stare at him for many long moments. Then Zuko stands, rearranges his robes, tucks his hands into his sleeves, all traces of his previous anguish gone.

"You _will_ tell me, my father," he promises softly.

Zuko stays a moment longer, and then he turns on his heel and strides away.

Ozai thinks all night of his abomination of a son and pretends that he does not feel sick while Zuko's words repeat themselves endlessly in his head.

"_My father… my father… my father…"_

There is no refuge; Ozai knows these words will haunt him to the deepest circle of hell. He cackles with the knowledge of it, belying his own failure at the one weakness he was never supposed to have: the love of a son.


End file.
